Mycroft's Fairy Tale
by TChallaInTheBathTub
Summary: Taking care of your sick little brother is hard, but having to make up a whole new fairy tale story for him is torture!


**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything here. BBC owns this version of Sherlock and Mycroft, but ACD created them both, and I am just a random person who likes to borrow them. Also, the other story in this story is owned by my friend, so yes I don't own anything._

**A/N:** How did this story came to life? Glad you asked. I've been sick for a few days (still am) and apparently I am an "Evil, needy person when I am not feeling well" according to my best friend (who I owe for the inspiration of this silly story) when I asked her to read me a story, preferably a children story, but she didn't know any so she made one up, and the result was an adorable little story. I used it here :P

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><p>Mycroft sat down on his desk with a glass of apple juice in one hand and a book in the other. This day could not have gotten better. His grades were perfect. The book he was dying to read for ages was waiting for him when he got home, a present mummy left for him. Also, the house was his (with the company of the servants and one little brother) for the weekend while his parents are away on business. He was, for no better words, happy.<p>

He did not hear or see anything from his younger brother since he got home which was fine with him. The last thing Mycroft wanted was to sit and listen to his brother going on and on about things a six year old should not even know what they mean. Still, it wasn't normal for Sherlock to not announce his presence. So, putting his book down, Mycroft headed to his brother's room.

The first thing Mycroft noticed when reaching Sherlock's room is it was quiet, too quiet. Knowing his brother, Mycroft expected a loud noise or at least Sherlock talking to one of his toys. There was only silence. He opened the door to find the room unusually clean with no toys everywhere or scraps of papers covering the floor and furniture in the room. Feeling intrigued, he entered.

Sherlock was lying on his bed with half the covers hanging from the side and the other half covering his small frame.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said walking to the bed.

A movement from under the covers and a mumbled sound were his answer. Curious and worry, if he would be honest, Mycoft sat down on the edge of the bed and patted what he knew was his brother's head.

"What's wrong?"

Sherlock shifted again under his touch then messy curls poked from under the blanket. Sherlock looked terrible. Puffy watery eyes, messy curls, red cheeks and a runny nose. Great, Sherlock was sick.

"I don't feel so good." Sherlock said sniffing.

"You don't look so good either," Mycroft respond sympathetically when Sherlock sneezed. "Wait here, I'll be right back." He patted the warm head before getting up and leaving the room.

When Mycroft came back he found Sherlock curled up hugging his pillow. He sat down next to him.

"I need you to sit up for a minute, Shirley." He took hold of a protesting Sherlock's arms and dragged him to a seated position.

"My head hurts real bad and my throat is itchy." Sherlock whined rubbing his eyes.

"I know. Open your mouth. I need to take your temperature. Come on"

Sherlock opened his small mouth tiredly and allowed his brother to insert a thermometer under his tongue without any protest this time. Mycroft felt a tingle of sadness for him. In any normal day Sherlock would annoy him with all sort of questions about the usage of the thermometer and how it works and Mycroft will have to correct some of the information Sherlock's brain have, even if he was a genius, Sherlock was still a child and Mycroft's job was to teach his brother or in this case to correct some of what he already knew.

Mycroft looked at his watch then took out the thermometer. _Thank god_, he thought when the reading on it didn't yell "Take him to the hospital." He looked up and smiled at the sad looking creature in front of him.

"You'll live. It's just a cold." He said getting up from the bed.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock's voice was hoarse.

"I am going to get you some medicine and a glass of orange juice. It'll make you feel better."

"Ok." Mycroft watched as his sibling lay back down and covering his head before leaving the room again.

The older brother came back with the promised juice and a bottle of cold medicine, and his book. After giving both to Sherlock and telling him to sleep, he sat leaning on the headboard and opened the book.

"What's that?" Sherlock's head covered the book.

"It's a book." Mycroft said pushing his brother back down with a glare which was lost on the curious child.

"What is it about?"

"Nothing that would interest you. Now go to sleep."

"My head hurts too much to sleep." Sherlock's tone made him sigh. This is going to be a long day.

"The medicine will help with that. You need to stop moving and lie down for it to work."

To his relief, Sherlock nodded and did what he was told. A few minutes passed in silence, but when Mycroft finally got into a good part in his book, Sherlock spoke.

"I am bored."

"Sleep."

"Sleep is boring too."

Mycroft closed the book and sighed again. He looked down and met Sherlock's bright eyes.

"Alright, what do you want to do? something that will not require either of us to move."

Sherlock frowned thinking then grinned at his older brother who did not like that smile one bit.

"Read me a story."

"What story?"

"I don't know. Anything?"

"Which story does mummy read to you?"

"She doesn't, I can read by myself!"

"Fine, which story do you usually read?"

"None, they're all boring." Mycroft sighed. a long long day.

"How about this, I'll tell you a story," he added when Sherlock looked excited. "You'll go to sleep after it's over. Deal?"

Sherlock nodded happily before settling back down. Mycroft shifted uncomfortably, he doesn't know any story that is suitable for a six year old. He could tell him historical stories or even some classical tales, but he knew Sherlock would never let him stop if he started. _Oh God_, he thought after realizing he will have to come up with something and fast.

"Alright, here it goes," He took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, there was this... Apple. Yes, an apple who lived on an apple tree in a big garden." _This is going well so far_, his mind tells him.

"This apple was unique. All the apples on the tree were either red, green or yellow, but not this one." He was cut off by Sherlock at this point.

"What kind of a tree was it?"

"Ah," Mycroft shook his head. "A Buckeye Gala."

"Wait. How can all the apples live on the same tree? Each one of them should have its own tree. Each tree has its own kind of apples, it can't have all of them!"

Mycroft sighed, he would love to tell his sick little brother about something called grafting and how it works, but instead he went for the easy answer.

"It's a magical world, Sherlock. Trees can produce different types of fruits which also can talk."

"Oh."

"Back to the story. This apple didn't have a normal skin, It has an invisible skin. At the beginning this apple felt happy for being special and none looked like it, but with time that feeling disappeared and the apple was feeling lonely. The red apples were together and so were the green apples and the yellow ones. Even when, lets call this apple... umm,"

"Appely?" Sherlock said cheerfully.

"Alright, Appely," Mycroft nodded smiling. "Even when Appely is with them, it would feel like an outsider, so it was lonely. One day Appely decided to leave the tree and go on an adventure to find someone who looks like it and be friend with them. When Appely left the tree, it walked for a long time and met a lot of interesting other fruits, but none of them looked like it..." Mycroft stopped and rubbed his temple. It's not easy to come up with a children story no matter what people tell you.

"What happened to Appely?" Sherlock's eager voice brought his senses back and he continued telling.

"Well, it... it found another big tree with fruits that looked a little bit like it."

"What fruit?"

"Umm," What fruit indeed, Mycroft's eyes looked around the room, but there was nothing there to inspire him. So, he said the first name that came to him. "A Pear tree."

Sherlock frowned saying "Pears don't look like apples!"

"Do let me finish," the little brother scowled. "Like I was saying, Appely found a big tree full of Pears which looked almost the same colour as its colour. Appely was happy so it asked them if it could live on their tree. The Pears were more than happy to take Appely in. It lived with them happily for a while before realizing that Pears are not like it, even if they their colour was a bit similar. So, Appely said goodbye to its new friends then left the tree to look for another home."

"What happened after?"

"Well, Appely walked some more until it found a weird looking fruit sitting on the ground. When it got closer it realized the weird creature was a watermelon. What's special about this watermelon was its skin was red with white strips. Appely felt happy to finally meet another fruit which was different from its peers. Appely asked Watermelon if they could be friends and it said yes. So, they lived together for a while. Both happy and then they decided to go on a vacation to the beach."

"How come there is a beach in the garden?"

"You know what. Delete that last part."

"Why?" Sherlock questioned frowning.

"Because it does not make any sense. Now, lets go back to the part where the Apple and the Watermelon met." Mycroft answered with a frown of his own. "So, they lived together happily for a while, but Appely couldn't adapt to living on the ground. It always lived on trees with no mud or weird insects crawling everywhere. Also, Appely noticed how Watermelon was happy with its friends although Watermelon was different from them. When Appely asked it about it, Watermelon said, "We are different from the outside, but what matters is the inside. We are all red inside, so we are alike." and at that moment Appely knew how much it missed its home and friends."

At that point Sherlock was yawning, so Mycroft kept going." It decided to go back home and never leave again. On its way to the tree, Appely thought about what Watermelon told it and knew it was stupid to leave home to look for something it already has and it learned an important lesson."

"What was it?" Sherlock sleepy voice asked.

Mycroft's hand went to smooth his little brother's hair, "It learned that we all look different, but the most important thing is who we are in the inside. So, when Appely reached the tree and found its family waiting, Appely knew it will never be alone. The end"

Mycroft looked down to find Sherlock already asleep and he smiled. Life will be hard for his younger brother, the children in Sherlock's school already pointed him out as the weird kid. Mycroft knew this will not get better in the future. Sherlock was brilliant and even though being different is not a bad thing, some people will not appreciate it. He hoped his brother would meet someone like Watermelon who would make everything alright, but if not, he'll always be there for him.

**The End**.


End file.
